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suoyou · 3 years

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[wip] 一日三秋; one day, three autumns

1633 words, rated t.

a complete chapter 2 in an incomplete series of oneshots titled 一日三秋; one day, three autumns, in which wwx is the autumn king and lwj is the winter prince.

ch 1.

they say that missing someone is the most powerful force of pain a person will know. a pain that can wilt the heart. a pain to carry. a pain that can turn one day into three autumns.

In the middle of Lan Wangji’s left thigh is a scar, round and hollow in the center, like a coin. It had been a burn once, angry blisters deadening into a purple keloid into, now, a little white moon on his skin.

Of the five floors of the castle, Lan Wangji is only allowed in three. Evidently, little does it matter that he is the only other heir to the Winter Throne should his brother ever be incapable of holding it; he’s often pictured how woefully unprepared he would be should the Kingdom of Summer ever revolt again, or, as the Defectress Luo Qingyang had promised, if the Autumn King showed up seeking revenge.

For what, Lan Wangji doesn’t know.

“You don’t need to know,” has always been his uncle’s reply.

“You won’t need to know if I have any say in it,” is what his brother says, kind, still double-edged.

“You should know,” said the Defectress Luo Qingyang, over her teacup, and jade has never looked so threatening, “that your kingdom is still carrying out the crimes of war right under your nose, and if your family does not wake up, the Autumn Kingdom will leave the decade-long peace treaty in the dust the same way you have.” She said it all like she was simply commenting on the races. The Jin Imperial Family was winning.

“How do you know? What kind of war crimes?” asked Lan Wangji. He’d spoken too brusquely, but Luo Qingyang hadn’t been fazed. All around them, the Dragon Boat Festival surged on, air humid and painted green-red-blue, an overfull tea kettle of a day. “Why is it your concern?”

“That you think it shouldn’t be my concern is the same line of thinking that got your Kingdom into this mess,” she said, and her words have been ringing in Lan Wangji’s ears ever since, an unwelcome jabber of sparrow song and raven squawks that won’t leave him hours later. The telltale signs of spring. She holds her position well.

“What kind of war crimes?” he repeated.

She’d taken her time sipping the rest of her tea before placing her empty cup on the table to be taken away. “Do you recall, when the Wen Imperial Family went rogue and the Snowfire Wars tore the lands apart,” she said, “there was a division of mages known as the Core Reapers?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t really believe, do you, that they simply vanished after those wars?”

Lan Wangji had stared at her.

The Core Reapers had vanished after the Snowfire Wars. They’d ridden through the war-torn battlegrounds after blood had been spilled like red ghosts, gathering the dying bodies of civilians and mages alike to, as Lan Wangji had heard, harvest their cores. Word was that the Wen Imperial Family was creating elixirs, weapons, medicines out of them. Hearsay had it that they were creating monsters.

He stares at his scar now, where his jade pendant had burned him through three layers of clothing thirteen years ago, and had never lit up again. In the dusk of the evening, it’s almost invisible, as if it had never existed—vanished, like the Reapers, after the war.

Lan Wangji stands up and shrugs his outer robe back on. Unthinkingly, he opens the drawer where he keeps that pendant, like it’ll have answers for him. It doesn’t. Jade does not dull with age, but in the red velvet of the drawer it could be leached bone. A small one—a skull bone.

Lying beside it is its bonded match. Once they had been identical, though Lan Wangji’s pendant was wrapped in blue ribbon. The other is broken on one side and missing a segment, red knotting and tassels unraveled, the jade circle incomplete like a horseshoe. When the Snowfire Wars raged around him, Lan Wangji wore his half of the pair with more attention and care than when he carried his sword.

“Wangye,” his attendant inclines her head when he opens his pavilion doors.

“I have some personal work to attend to. Can you see to it that, if any of my family seeks me, to let them know I will greet them accordingly when I return?”

“Yes, Wangye.”

So he goes.

Three of the Kingdom’s floors are aboveground. Two are below. He’s been to three in the middle—never the topmost, never the bottomost, and he’s not sure what he’s looking for. He has to look, to be sure, or else it will be another evening of Luo Qingyang’s voice in his head, jerking him awake long before dawn.

Strange dreams have been plaguing him since the Dragon Boat festival, the sorts of dreams that someone would tell themselves didn’t mean anything. The night of the festival Lan Wangji had gone to bed and found himself in a place where the sun never set, simply bobbing up and down in the sky, turning from green to gold and back again as the days and nights passed. Then, the next night, the scar on his thigh had opened up and begun bleeding afresh, and no matter what magic he used, it would not stop. The more magic he used, the more blood poured down his leg.

Last night, he dreamed of Wei Ying. Not in the way he’d been in life, so bright that Lan Wangji couldn’t bear to look at him sometimes.

The Kingdom of Winter had been blanketed in snow for their cycle, and Lan Wangji was in the woods outside the royal walls alone. A dark sweep of Core Reapers had passed by. Their hoods had been drawn over their heads. It looked as if the entire forest was bleeding.

One of them in the center of their tight pool of red had paused and turned their heads, and under the scarlet, mink-lined hood had been Wei Ying’s face.

Lan Wangji shakes himself as he greets the guards that stand outside the gates into the Kingdom’s undergrounds. A question floats through their expressions but they open the gates for him without question, bowing again as he passes.

He picks his way through the first underground level without wasting his time. Here they keep their forbidden texts, their spoils of war, here they hold sensitive political meetings. A damp, sweet smell of soil clutches fat little hands at his robes, happy for visitors, and he raises his hand to upright some of the overgrown vines and planters that line the walls. His hand glows a dim blue, and the drooping foliage picks its flower heads up again. Blooms are coming.

Even if he’s never made the descent into the lowest floor of the Kingdom, Lan Wangji knows there are two ways to get there—the prisoners’ entrance in the Pavilion of Discord, and the one he faces now. The jailers’ entrance, through the Hall of Justice.

He doesn’t feel particularly just, facing the round door that he knows will take him down the staircase into the Kingdom’s dungeons.

Blue fires light his way.

In times of peace, there aren’t many prisoners to speak of. The few that the Kingdom of Winter persecutes are petty thieves, suspected spies, and the occasional revolutionist, all of which are bent into fearful submission before they ever even make it to the dungeons. Lan Wangji knows it. He’s seen it.

And he’s right, almost, for at least part of the dungeon. It’s bright and clean, with mainly empty cells, but the blue fires end abruptly in the middle of the long walkway between the rows. There are scuffles, noises of things living, hushed in the gloom. He pauses and strains his eyes. Then he lifts his hand, summoning some of the fires in the torches to his palm to light his way.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see. Prisoners, perhaps, curled up like hungry mice.

The icy sheen of his fire falls over the bodies in the cells, and Lan Wangji frowns before he steps back, breath stuttering in his chest.

They are prisoners. It’s the most human thing left about them. Some of them have lost all their hair, ragged clumps gathering in rolls thick as dead cats beside them. Others have clawed their own backs bloody, as if they’d been trying to dig their own spines out of their bodies, and still others were covered in a thick, tarry ooze, as if blood and lymph had leaked out of them and gained its own sentience. One of them lay in silence with a stained white strip of cloth over his eyes, a line at his neck like his head had been stitched back on.

Lan Wangji’s stomach writhes, hot and sick, in his belly.

The end of the walkway widens into a larger chamber where no one is kept, but as he passes his fire over the space he can make out the outlines of odd contraptions—long rods with fluted holes, boards with three holes in them—one larger, two smaller, for a neck and hands. A splintered wooden gurney like a rotting log. Old blades sprout off of it like oyster mushrooms. They blink sleepily back at him, eyes in the night. A bizarre device like a chair, outfitted with two horns on both sides. Anyone sitting in it would have their head position between the mouths of both.

He frowns. A long skein of red fabric has been tossed carelessly over the back of the chair, wrinkles rounded and warm. A cloak. Someone’s just taken it off.

“Wangji,” a voice comes from behind him, “what are you doing down here?”

#fic wip #wx #incomplete

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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years

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19 & 25 for salty ask (￣ε￣＠)

What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

I don’t know if I can pinpoint one thing that I hate the most (except perhaps the easy answer of, like, the fact that people cannot keep CQL stuff out of the MDZS tags).

I guess that one of them would that like people take the “there does not exist a True Reading/a Single Interpretation to a text” to the dumb extreme of like “anything goes because I just need to say that that’s how I see it 🙃 and all of our readings are all equally Valid”. Please, you still need to be able to justify and support that reading beyond “well that’s just how I prefer to think about this/that’s My Interpretation 🙃” if you want to have any credibility when you say that these readings hold as much water as readings/interpretations for which we are presented arguments supported by what can be found in the text or meta-textual engagements with the text. I couldn’t just show up to the fandom and be like “Zidian is an allegory for the fall from grace and MDZS is rooted in christian ideology, actually” with nothing to support that wild thesis and just expect people to be like “well, I guess we all have different readings of the text, uh, how valid of you.”

But honestly I am Boo Boo the Fool to expect otherwise....

How would you end MDZS/Would you change the ending of MDZS?

That’s a good question because MDZS is such a beast of a book that it’s quite hard to tie it all off and chose what note to end it on. I guess as well that with the extras we have technically “two endings” in the sense of what the novel ends on and what the last extra ends on. And, uh, I’ll probably need to unpack both so let’s get into it (only I would turn a salty ask into meta)

Last chapter: “Wangxian part III”

So after meeting MianMian, Wangxian continue to travel to a small town in their efforts to go where the chaos is. WWX is playing footsie under the table at the wine shop, holding onto LWJ’s ribbon. In contrast to this domestic scene, suddenly:

One of the few sitting at the table gloated, “I knew Jin Guangyao had to plummet sooner or later with the things he did! I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now he’s finally exposed, hah! One’s deeds will be paid, one way or another—what goes around always comes around!”

The last chapter directly references the prologue, which is something I personally adore in writing, this idea of taking your story full-circle. The difference, this time, is that the villain to be despised as entertainment is not longer WWX, but JGY (I could have done without WWX explicitly telling us so in the text because it is pretty clear however I also know readers miss the most obvious cues so maybe that hand-holding is deserved).

Aside from gossip about JGY, the sects, and the sealing ceremony of the coffin containing NMJ and JGY, there is a moment where an unnamed youth raises a point about the yin hufu.

Suddenly, he heard a young man’s voice, “Then is the Yin hufu really inside the coffin?”

A cloud of silence fell over the wine shop. A moment later, someone answered, “Who knows? Perhaps. What could Jin Guangyao have done with the Yin hufu except for carrying it on him?”

“But there’s no way of telling. Didn’t they say the hufu has become just a piece of scrap iron? There’s no use for it anymore.”

The boy sat alone at a table, holding a sword in his arms, “Is the coffin really firm enough? What would happen if someone wants to see if the Yin hufu is inside or not?”

Immediately, someone raised his voice, “Who’d dare?”

“QingheNieShi, GusuLanShi, and YunmengJiangShi all sent people to guard the cemetery. Who in the world would have the guts to do it?”

Everyone expressed their agreement. The boy didn’t speak up again. He took the teacup from his table and sipped, as though he gave up on his idea. Yet, his eyes hadn’t changed at all.

Wei Wuxian had seen those types of eyes on many faces. And he knew that this definitely wouldn’t be the last time he saw them.

This continues the idea that the cycle that brought about the issues and conflicts in the cultivation world that fueled the story of the novel are not likely to disappear, and that once again it is likely that the “common wisdom” of public opinion will accelerate or allow such troubles to brew.

After they leave the wine shop, LWJ and WWX share a more domestic moment. Amongst others, they discuss the song Wangxian. Through parallel imagery, the novel also reaffirms that LWJ and WWX have become a family by mirroring one of WWX’s few memories of his parents (”Listening to his nonsense, Lan Wangji only grasped the reins of Lil’ Donkey with Wei Wuxian on it and clenched the thin rope in his palm, continuing on their way."). As well, WWX suggests they go back to the CR with a casually comment about missing tianzi xiao which is in reality prompted by the fact that he knew LWJ would be worried about his xiongzhang and shufu since one of the man in the wine shop said that LXC had looked terrible during the sealing ceremony and another commented “What would you expect? In the coffin were his two sworn brothers, while his sect’s juniors kept on running around with a fierce corpse—they even need its assistance on night-hunts! No wonder he’s in secluded cultivation so often. If Lan Wangji still doesn’t go back, I bet Lan Qiren’s gonna start cursing…”. This shows how Wangxian are taking care of one another in their own way, which is very cute.

WWX also provides an in-universe explanation for his bad memory:

Wei Wuxian knew that ‘for once’ referred to how his memory was good for once. He couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t always be so angry about it. It was my fault in the past, alright? Besides, my terrible memory should be accredited to my mom.”

Wei Wuxian propped his arm on Lil’ Apple’s head, spinning Chenqing in his hand, “My mom said you have to remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free.”

And then we get the final lines of the novel:

Facing the wind, Wei Wuxian squinted at Lan Wangji’s silhouette. As he criss-crossed his legs, he shockingly found that he could somehow manage to balance himself in such an odd position on the back of Lil’ Apple.

It was only something trivial, yet he looked as if he just discovered a new and interesting occurrence. He couldn’t hold himself back from sharing this with Lan Wangji, calling, “Lan Zhan, look at me, look at me now!”

Just like before, Wei Wuxian called his name with a grin, and he looked over as well.

From then on, he could never move his eyes away again.

I am overall pretty satisfied with this ending, although I wish the last few lines had a stronger thematic resonance, but hey, it is still a romance novel at the heart of it so it also makes sense that it finishes that way. I am sure that there is a case that could be made about how the ending could have been stronger or more impactful, but I do think that it is a perfectly competent one. There are of course more things that could be discussed about how the novel ties in a lot of plot threads, but it is interesting to me to focus on what MXTX decided to show in the ultimate chapter of the novel.

Last extra: “Dream come true”

This extra is basically the equivalent of a book adding another chapter after “and they lived happily ever after” in order to show you what that happily ever after could look like for these characters. If the novel had only had the tone of this extra, it would have gotten boring pretty fast. But as it is, as an extra, it is just this little delightful piece of fluff that also gives us more backstory about WWX’s infatuation with LWJ during his first life. It is sweet to the point of cavities, but hey nothing wrong with an indulgent fanfic being stapled at the back of a story. It’s my favourite extra and I love how the audio drama gave life to it.

“Be honest about whether or not you thought about me in the same way.” In a solemn tone, he spoke, “Rejecting me like that so coldly every single time—it really made me lose face, don’t you know?”

Lan Wangji, “You can try, now, to see if I would reject you over anything.”

The sentence so suddenly struck his heart. Wei Wuxian choked, yet Lan Wangji was still as calm as ever, as though he didn’t at all realize what he just said. Wei Wuxian put his hand to his forehead, “You… Hanguang-Jun, let’s make a deal. Please warn me before you say something so romantic, or else I won’t be able to take it.”

Lan Wangji nodded, “Okay.”

Wei Wuxian, “Lan Zhan—what a person you are!”

Tens of thousands of words were left unspoken, in exchange for endless laughter and hugs.

Well that wasn’t very salty, but 🤷‍♂️

Salty asks

#salty asks #anon ask #mdzs #wangxian #Anonymous #long post

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carolyncaves · 4 years

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Hello again everyone, and welcome to Wei Wuxian goes to Gusu, Part Two. Also, the Untamed Spring Fest is long over, but this is my belated entry for Days 24-26: Gentle, Harmony, and Nest, which rounds out the complete set. 4913 words, golden core angst continued, copious tenderness also continued, vague mental illness plus thoughts of death/dying (it’s still wwx), wangxian vibes intensify (it’s still lwj), lxc is around too, minor caretaking, numerous rabbits

part one | also on ao3

Wei Wuxian awoke, and he had so little idea where he was or why that for a second it could have been before, and all of it – Lotus Pier and that mountain in Yiling and the Burial Mounds – could have all been a long, fading dream.

He was empty, though. He didn’t even have to reach for it – it was a conspicuous scoured ache. He was in Gusu, crumpled in failure. It was inescapably real.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t slept well in weeks, so he was both surprised and unsurprised he’d dropped off so early and still made it well past sunrise. And that Lan Zhan hadn’t awoken him, even though the day would have started long ago for the inhabitants of Cloud Recesses.

There was movement in the jingshi – Lan Zhan had been at his desk, reading something, but he’d noticed Wei Wuxian was awake and had risen to come over to him. Wei Wuxian rolled blearily out of the bed. He blinked in the sun-washed light of the dwelling.

They were alone – Lan Xichen wasn’t waiting for him too. Suibian was still in the sword stand, though Bichen was now at its master’s side. The table held one person’s breakfast, kept warm with a talisman.

He was a little dazed that Lan Zhan hadn't berated him or, he didn't know, the sky hadn’t fallen down around him now that he'd revealed the truth to someone. To be honest the shock might have been making him a little woozy. That was what he felt – light and otherwise empty.

He was very fortunate, then, that Lan Zhan had arranged this meal for him – generous and formal, as if he were a guest visiting with honor – and didn't seem to be asking anything of him in exchange for eating it.

Lan Zhan sat down at the table with Wei Wuxian, even though he had obviously eaten hours ago. Lan Zhan poured chili oil in his porridge and set it in front of him. Lan Zhan made him a second cup of tea when he finished his first. Lan Zhan did not speak – there was, of course, no talking during meals at Cloud Recesses. For once, Wei Wuxian was happy to keep that rule.

It was only when he was finished, and they had sat there in silence long enough that it was clearly ‘after breakfast’, that Lan Zhan spoke. “How?”

That was a short and nonspecific question, so Wei Wuxian answered it as shortly and nonspecifically as possible – after Jiang Cheng’s core was crushed by Wen Zhuliu, Wei Wuxian had discovered a way to give him his own, and he had fooled Jiang Cheng by going about it a roundabout way but was diverted by Wen Chao before he could rejoin him.

If he was lucky, he would never be forced to give more detail than that.

Wei Wuxian had not been lucky for a long, long while.

Still, for now, Lan Zhan only nodded. He’d probably spent half the night going over everything Jiang Cheng had said to him while they were searching for Wei Wuxian together. He’d just needed Wei Wuxian’s version of the story to fill in the gaps.

The silence stretched again. Wei Wuxian didn’t want to volunteer anything to fill it.

“Jiang Wanyin is a fool,” Lan Zhan said.

That was so far down on the list of things Wei Wuxian had expected to be confronted with that he hadn’t even managed to reach it yet. “What do you mean?”

"He knows his core was destroyed. He had it magically restored, though an opaque machination of yours, and when you reappeared afterward you were wielding demonic cultivation and refused to use your sword." Lan Zhan's cup hit the table hard, for him anyway. "Can Sandu Shengshou not add to two?"

Wei Wuxian let out a laugh despite himself, at Lan Zhan’s protective grouchiness, but he quickly sobered. "I told him something wholeheartedly and he believed his shixiong. Is that really his fault?"

Lan Zhan looked lost at him. "Very well. You are also ridiculous. Do you prefer that?"

"You're right. We deserve each other. I mean Jiang Cheng and me.” Wei Wuxian certainly didn’t deserve Lan Zhan. Something occurred to him, and he put forward a sudden burst of energy, leaning forward to argue his case. “Lan Zhan, my three month absence and the flute and the ghosts were very distracting! I think you should give me some credit! It’s only because I so convincingly threw up so much smoke – quite literally, I might add – that Jiang Cheng was fooled!”

Lan Zhan didn’t take the bait. He continued looking upset, and not riled at all.

Wei Wuxian did not have the appetite to play upbeat forever. “Lan Zhan,” he tried to wheedle, but it came out more morosely than he’d intended.

Lan Zhan winced as if struck. Wei Wuxian did not want to do that to Lan Zhan. Before he could think of a way to make it better, Lan Zhan had risen. “Come,” he ordered.

“Where are we going?”

“Come.” When Wei Wuxian still didn’t manage to move right away, Lan Zhan added, “Somewhere simple. Come.”

Wei Wuxian didn't like that he'd needed to be told that. But it did help for him to know. He went.

The paths of Cloud Recesses were not crowded. Most likely everyone was engaged in their daily study or tasks, and Wei Wuxian suddenly wondered what it had taken for Lan Zhan to be with him. He has sect duties to attend to, Lan Xichen had said to Jiang Cheng. He has been tasked with repairing the sect’s scriptures, he’d told Wei Wuxian. Lan Zhan hadn’t been permitted to come to Yunmeng, or otherwise Wei Wuxian was now quite certain he would have. But here he was now, leading Wei Wuxian up the back mountain in the middle of the day, apparently uncaring if anyone saw them or not.

He didn’t know how to ask that, though. He couldn’t say ‘Lan Zhan, are you making trouble for yourself by seeing to me?’ He didn’t know what he would do if the answer was yes.

He would have to insist on returning to Lotus Pier immediately. He would have to endure the sword flight back.

He was selfish. He didn’t ask so he wouldn’t have to do those things. Not yet.

Lan Zhan took him to the hidden clearing where the bunnies lived.

At the sight of the soft, white creatures, Lan Zhan’s secret flock, Wei Wuxian felt a thickness in his throat that completely eliminated any possibility of speaking. He merely looked at Lan Zhan with what felt like a pinched and desperate expression and hoped his question would be conveyed.

Lan Zhan guided him with small touches to sit down on a low stone. Then he bent down and carefully scooped one of the rabbits into his arms, and settled it in Wei Wuxian’s lap.

Wei Wuxian cupped it, warm body and soft fur, with both hands – the reflexive response to a small animal. “Lan Zhan?” he managed. He stroked his hand down its back, rubbed the downy spot behind its ears.

“I find them soothing,” Lan Zhan said, in a small voice. “I hoped …” He looked away, like he was ashamed.

A traitorous tear finally escaped Wei Wuxian’s eyes, which meant several more sympathizers followed. “They’re marvelous, Lan Zhan. Thank you very much.” He hugged the bunny close against him – gently, of course, but holding that living, beating thing to his cold, still center.

Lan Zhan immediately turned and started to collect more rabbits for Wei Wuxian.

He ferried them in ones and twos over to him, and when they began to overflow from Wei Wuxian’s lap – which didn’t take long – he coaxed Wei Wuxian down off the rock and into the grass and lay more bunnies alongside him. Once he’d apparently decided the supply at hand was adequate, he settled himself directly next to Wei Wuxian and put his arm once more around his back.

Wei Wuxian had no objection to this touch – it was more pleasing than any or even all of the rabbits, as lovely as they were. But it was uncommon – he hoarded his memories of Lan Zhan’s contact as preciously as any stones – and as he sat limply, three rabbits resting in the circle of his own arms, he couldn’t help but wonder at it. “Lan Zhan, why do you keep petting me like I’m one of these bunnies. Are you trying to soothe yourself?”

No sooner did the words leave Wei Wuxian’s mouth than he realized of course he was. Lan Zhan was plainly beside himself, to anyone who knew him at all.

“I’m okay, Lan Zhan. It’s only a little spilled milk.” He let his mind wander down a wistful trail. “It’s natural for you to be disappointed our epic rivalry in cultivation is ruined.”

“You are not. It is not.” Lan Zhan took an almost-unsteady breath. “I am not.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the type to try to avoid competition, but I suppose I won’t hold it against you,” Wei Wuxian continued. He was parrying, saying bald and callous things so he could avoid thinking about the raw ones, but Lan Zhan was growing only palpably more distressed. Wei Wuxian had to stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before he could think about it. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Lan Zhan’s arm squeezed him fervently, but he didn’t speak. He was waiting for him to elaborate. Maybe he meant 'about what?'. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but think it would be more reasonable if he meant 'what were you not wrong about?'

“When I said it wasn’t your concern. When I called you ruthless, and accused you of not cherishing our relationship." When Wei Wuxian had spoken those words the first time, they’d felt true – he’d been an angry sort of terrified Lan Zhan would press further and intrude on the ways he was compensating for the things he now lacked. Repeating them now, in the gentle respite of Gusu’s hospitality and Lan Zhan’s literal embrace, they tasted like ash on his tongue. "I’m sorry I called you Hanguang Jun. I was trying to make you mad at me, saying hurtful things on purpose. I know … I know you …" Care seemed paltry, next to everything Lan Zhan did and was. Wei Wuxian couldn’t find anything better.

Lan Zhan’s free hand circled his bicep, slow and barely restrained. A silent I do.

“Me, too. Lan Zhan. I’m sorry.”

“There is no need,” Lan Zhan said, “so long as you stay.”

Wei Wuxian let himself absorb that for a moment. The benediction that Lan Zhan would forgive him. But … "I can't stay forever, can I? I will eventually have to go back to Lotus Pier, and attend cultivation conferences, and rejoin the world." Wei Wuxian made himself smile ruefully. "Tempting as it might be, I can't hide here in Cloud Recesses forever, kept like another of these rabbits."

Lan Zhan didn’t dispute his comment directly. That meant he knew Wei Wuxian was right and he didn't like it. "We have time."

Wei Wuxian didn’t know if there was enough time in the world. He didn’t know what difference time would make. He didn’t voice that, though. He was done arguing with Lan Zhan.

“Is there anything else I need to apologize for? My brain is a leaky sieve these days, Lan Zhan – have I done anything else cruel to you for which I need to repent?” It was hard to understand now how he’d been so sharp with Lan Zhan, who had taken it all from him and only returned stiff, anxious concern.

There was a hesitation. Lan Zhan asked quietly, “What was your intention?”

“Hm?”

“It was only by chance you were thrown into the Burial Mounds and forged your tool and the yin tiger amulet. You would not accept my help – you would not have sought it out. Did you intend to wield the raw yin iron from the start? When you came down from the mountain after the removal of your core, what was your intention?”

Wei Wuxian stared at Lan Zhan’s knee long enough that Lan Zhan shifted forward and captured Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Wei Wuxian sighed. He knew he would not like the answer. "I thought probably I would die quickly in battle, and then the secret would go to my grave.”

Wei Wuxian had been right. Lan Zhan's expression at that was ... agonized wasn't a wrong word. Considering how Lan Zhan had reacted to the revelation about his core, considering how he'd been treating him... he couldn't imagine how Lan Zhan would have received his death. How stricken he would have been.

"Fortunately, I met Wen Chao,” Wei Wuxian said, which was a truly bizarre sentiment considering what had followed.

“Your golden core is gone, and your body and temperament are being devoured by resentful energy,” Lan Zhan said mournfully. “It is not fortunate.”

“I’m here, Lan Zhan. That’s fortunate enough.” One of the rabbits reached its snout under his cupped hand, sniffing inquisitively. Wei Wuxian felt himself smile. He lay his hand over its eyes, blinding it momentarily, but then in payment he dutifully stroked its fur. “The wicked tricks aren’t really so bad, are they? Didn’t they save us from Wen Ruohan?”

“You saved us,” Lan Zhan agreed slowly, like he didn’t quite see the correlation. Wei Wuxian didn’t know that he understood his skepticism – Lan Zhan had been discussing the price, so Wei Wuxian was reminding him of what it purchased. Lan Zhan elaborated. “It’s not whether they are valuable, or right or wrong. Your use of them is harmful to your wellbeing.”

Wei Wuxian thought about the powerful tearing energy that flowed through him when he played Chenqing. He thought about all the blood he’d spit into the soil of the Burial Mounds when he’d made it. He thought about how he felt empty and tired all the time, and how even now he couldn’t be completely sure where the absence of his core ended and the disintegration of the black smoke began. He thought about how it didn’t matter – now they were one and the same – and how nothing mattered, and how everything mattered but he was powerless to change any of it. He thought about anger – at the Wens, at Lan Zhan, at Jiang Cheng, at the war council led by Nie Mingjie, at everything – and how even that now seemed distant and beyond his reach. He’d felt a burst of it when Lan Xichen tried to persuade him to pick up the sword. It had flagged quickly, and now numbness and an almost pathetic gratitude and affection for Lan Zhan were all that remained of him.

“You could play Clarity for me,” Wei Wuxian said. “Actually, Zewu Jun mentioned you’d been studying other scores. You can play whatever you think is suitable.”

Lan Zhan looked deep into Wei Wuxian’s face. Wei Wuxian didn’t know if he hadn’t been expecting that out of him, or if he thought it was rich for Wei Wuxian to be asking for it now, after refusing so many times – but at length, Wei Wuxian could swear he could see tears in his eyes. “Some of the scores are experimental,” Lan Zhan said. “I have tested them, but please note their effects.” Then he turned in place so he was angled away from Wei Wuxian and conjured his guqin.

In this way, his back to him, Lan Zhan managed to play without leaving the thin bubble of air heated by their mutual warmth. Their shoulders even touched. Wei Wuxian tried not to lean on him. He didn't want to add any more weight, push Lan Zhan more out of his regular alignment than he already was.

Then again, what was the point of him being here? How could he let Lan Zhan help him without letting himself impose?

He couldn't, then. He couldn’t be selfish any longer.

But Lan Zhan wanted him to.

It was a tangle in Wei Wuxian's head. He couldn’t parse it, didn’t have the will, so he just sat there and let the music wash over him, let Lan Zhan play until he was done, and then obeyed when Lan Zhan suggested they go back.

When they returned to the jingshi, Lan Xichen was waiting for them.

///

Lan Wangji observed the way Wei Ying’s demeanor closed in on itself again when he caught sight of Xichen. It was dismaying, but in a distant way – compared to all that had already dismayed him, it was nothing, and as long as Wei Ying remained here, it had no real significance.

Of course, that second thing relied on Xichen’s support.

“I’ve ordered tea to share, if there’s no problem, Wangji.”

He was giving Lan Wangji the option to defer if he still wished to, as he had last night. Lan Wangji could admit it was tempting – there was a part of him that wanted to wrap his hands around Wei Ying alone together in the jingshi and hold him until those tight shutters unfurled themselves again. But they would need to give some account to Xichen sooner or later, and Wei Ying was in a calm state. There would be nothing to gain by delaying.

They sat down at the table and were served. Wei Ying made a few frivolous comments, a thin but genuine attempt at normalcy, and Xichen responded with good nature, but the unignorable topic hung in the air. When the chatter lapsed, Lan Wangji tracked Xichen’s eyes around the jingshi. They stilled on the sword rack – on Suibian, set obviously to the side.

Xichen drew a breath.

“No more,” Lan Wangji said.

“Wangji?”

“We should talk no more about the sword. It's irrelevant.”

Lan Xichen looked concernedly at Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji stared steadily back.

“It’s a serious departure.”

“Xiongzhang, we must achieve harmony in the cultivation world over Wei Ying’s new style of cultivation." He didn't address Xichen's comment about the sword directly at all.

The crease deepened in Lan Xichen's brow. "That's a tall order.” He surely also had reservations about whether it was a correct course at all. “Are you certain this is the best way to proceed, Wangji? Is there no other solution that’s being abandoned too quickly?”

“No.” Lan Wangji understood now that Wei Ying had been shattered beyond repair, and any other solutions had been shattered with him. There was a narrow path before them, and danger lapped on either side. But if it were possible to see Wei Ying to the other side of it, to avoid suppression by the various sects on one hand and annihilation by his own cultivation on the other, Lan Wangji would see it done.

Xichen’s gaze slid over to Wei Ying – who watched his teacup firmly. “Well … if Wei-gongzi continues to be inflexible, I suppose it is the immediate remedy.”

He had the wrong ideas. Lan Wangji did not correct him.

///

Wei Wuxian did not contribute much to the conversation, but neither Lan Zhan nor Lan Xichen seemed to expect him to. They determined the main obstacle would be Jin Guangshan – and that tipping the scales away from him would be a matter of ten thousand small words instead of a few big, bold ones.

“Sect Leader Jin will not easily let the matter of Wei-gongzi’s amulet go,” Lan Xichen pointed out, mildly as anything.

He was right. That settled like a lead ball in Wei Wuxian’s stomach, but hard problems were not solved in a day.

They also determined – and got Wei Wuxian to agree – he would stay for now, and they would revisit the matter in two weeks and not before. This felt strangely as though Wei Wuxian had been about to go under the sword and he’d gotten a reprieve. It didn’t matter that it was temporary, and all together brief. It felt infinite in comparison to the smother of expectation, and suddenly he could breathe.

He spent the afternoon intermittently walking the circumference of the jingshi’s garden and being in nature, trying and mostly failing to read a few of the books Lan Zhan had brought from the library pavilion he thought might interest him (“Only if you are looking for something to occupy yourself,” Lan Zhan had stressed), listening to another round of Lan Zhan’s healing music, and working fixatedly but not very fruitfully on the design of a talisman. He ended up sitting with his knees in his chest in the circle of Lan Zhan's arms – limp with what he had finally accepted was exhaustion. When night fell, Lan Zhan opened the jingshi's doors and they sat close beside each other on the threshold of the porch, looking up at the stars.

In that beautiful, settled silence, Wei Wuxian eventually said, “I don't know what to say to Jiang Chang.”

“You will be here for at least two weeks,” Lan Zhan replied. “Perhaps much longer.”

“I know, but eventually I’m going to have to go back, and I don’t know what to say to Jiang Cheng.”

“We have time to consider it. That and other things.” Lan Zhan shifted his hand ever so slightly where it rested on his knee. Almost as if he wanted to do something with it. “You must be careful with your use of demonic cultivation. It would be best if you allow other people to act whenever possible, and only use the amulet when there is no alternative.”

“That’s a nice idea, Lan Zhan, but it’s hard when I can’t justify it. Not also using the sword, if it means I can’t do all the things I used to.”

He could only do it if he had someone beside him who knew, who could compensate and step in. But the only person who knew, and who could know, was Lan Zhan.

"I cannot leave Cloud Recesses,” Lan Zhan murmured. “Uncle has forbidden me." Then, he immediately countered with, "I will ask Xiongzhang to intercede with him. He has already been convinced to have you here and to allow me to spend time assisting you. We will tell him …”

"Lan Zhan, you don't have to do that."

"I would not be doing it because I have to.”

Wei Wuxian lay his hand over Lan Zhan’s. He curled his fingers around it, loosely. “I know. I just mean it would be hard for you, too. When you can’t justify it.” There should be no reason Wei Wuxian needed a guard and companion, so it would be impossible to explain to anyone – Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and Shijie, the whole cultivation world – why Lan Zhan would remain at Wei Wuxian’s side.

It was a nice thought, just an impractical one.

Lan Zhan must’ve agreed with him, because he didn’t dispute this. Instead he finally asked, “Was it painful?”

Wei Wuxian often avoided thinking about it, but when pressed, one thing he remembered was the messy nest Wen Ning had made out of his outer robe to cushion Wei Wuxian’s head. Wei Wuxian had tried to refuse him, claiming it would get dirty. “Use mine,” he'd offered.

“You’ll be cold, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning had replied. “From the ground.”

“Won't you then, from the air?” He'd given a thin laugh. “I don't think my being cold or warm is going to matter much.”

Wen Ning had just looked at him mournfully.

He also remembered screaming.

"It wasn't that bad,” was what Wei Wuxian said. “I was unconscious for the worst of it. Mostly just a little sore when I woke up.”

Lan Zhan gave him a long look. Maybe that was too unbelievable – that something so hard would be so easy. "I thought you were telling the truth."

"It doesn't matter now, does it?”

“It matters.”

“But Lan Zhan, don't you … Aren’t you upset enough? I don't want to torture you with the details."

“Wei Ying. It matters.” There was a lengthy pause. “Does it hurt still?” Lan Zhan asked, so quiet it was barely there. Having the core be gone, he surely meant.

Hurt was the wrong word.

When Wen Qing began the procedure in earnest, he’d felt his life leaving him. He’d known his heart would falter and stop by the end of it. He was feeling its last weak beats, drawing his last plaintive breaths, and his throat had tightened in mortal panic.

He lived on, of course, but afterwards he’d still known he was dying – could feel his body slowing down and drying up without the bright warm thing that powered it. He’d been prepared for that possibility from the beginning. He understood it, that his dying body was going to ache and shrivel around him. He’d just needed it to get him down the mountain, get him back to Jiang Cheng, ideally get him in front of an enemy sword so there wouldn’t be any questions about it. As the days passed, it seemed like it might.

The days had turned into weeks. Yiling Tea House had turned into the Burial Mounds. That empty, dead feeling never went away. Wei Wuxian just realized he wasn’t actually going to die from it.

That had been surprisingly hard to deal with.

Wei Wuxian slowly bent forward until he was crumpled against Lan Zhan's chest. Lan Zhan put his arms around him immediately – the embroidered fabric of his robes rich against Wei Wuxian’s cheek, the drape of his sleeve enshrouding him.

“No, it’s just gone now.” The words felt thick in his throat, so he repeated them. "Lan Zhan, it's gone."

Lan Zhan’s lips pressed against the crown of his head. “Wei Ying,” he said, in a tone of voice that sounded like ‘I am here’ and ‘that means nothing’ all at once. Wei Wuxian dug his fingers desperately into Lan Zhan’s robes. He could do nothing, certainly, but it didn’t mean nothing. For him to give up the past day for Wei Wuxian meant something. And the next two weeks, that meant something, too.

Wei Wuxian would try to absorb as much of that meaning as he could, funnel it into that empty space inside him. He would use it for fuel, when it was over. He could perhaps push himself very far on it. He slumped against Lan Zhan’s warm chest and willed it to seep into him.

Lan Zhan stroked his hair – slowly, lightly, the same quiet way he spoke. Lan Zhan wiped dry the intermittent tears that slid silently down one side of Wei Wuxian’s face – those on the other side just seeped into his robe. Lan Zhan hummed to him, a song he’d heard only once before, drifting in and out of consciousness in a dismal cave.

Wei Wuxian’s whole world was the expansion and contraction of his chest. They sat under the light of the scattered infinite stars.

Eventually, after the heavens had turned quite a ways above them, Lan Zhan gathered Wei Wuxian up and took him to bed – settled him down on the edge of it, removed his ribbon and combed down his hair, coaxed off his clothes and dressed him in one of his own sleeping robes. He lay him down and arranged the blanket over him, the way he’d done the previous night.

This time, though, once Lan Zhan had made himself ready for sleep, he got in and joined him. Lay right next to him in the bed, not even a hint of modesty or hesitation, tangling their knees and tucking Wei Wuxian’s head beneath his chin so every inch of them was close.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asked – and it meant Is this all right? Lan Zhan obviously expected it would be, since he’d gone on and done it first, but he was giving Wei Wuxian the opportunity to voice the contrary.

Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have known he wanted it, but it turned out Lan Zhan was quicker than him, at least when it came to these things, because he did. He pressed his cheek into the warm skin of Lan Zhan’s neck and snaked his arm around his waist. “Lan Zhan.”

That night sleep went back to eluding him, spent hours standing ruthlessly out of reach – but instead of being alone in the darkness with his sharpest thoughts, he had Lan Zhan’s precious weight for company.

///

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Wangji said, on the porch of the hanshi. “What about a marriage?”

Lan Wangji had appeared at his brother’s door so early Xichen was still in his sleeping attire, but he still invited Lan Wangji inside and gave the inquiry due consideration. “Certainly Jin Guangshan would be appeased, or at the very least distracted, if the Jiang sect would agree to form that alliance. But Jiang-guniang has already indicated no quite publicly, at the victory banquet, so it will be some time before the matter could be reopened. Besides, I thought we agreed it was unwise to let Sect Leader Jin consolidate power unilaterally.”

“Not a marriage for Jiang Yanli. Or the Jin sect.”

Wei Ying had gone far astray, nearly to the point of catastrophe, but Lan Wangji now realized he had also been in error. He had been overly fixated on getting Wei Wuxian to come to Gusu.

The best solution, the only lasting one, was for him to go to Lotus Pier.

part three

#cql #mdzs #the untamed #fanfiction #wangxian #it takes lan wangji just over twenty four hours to decide the logical course of action is to marry wei ying #if you look closely you can pinpoint the exact moment it occurs to him #and he never looks back lmao #so apparently some deep part of my subconscious is absolutely committed to getting lwj to marry into wwx’s family at lotus pier #I gave it a throwaway line in one of the spring fest fics and now here we are #I tried to decide if I was being objective here but other than sad/less fun endings #I felt like the only way to substantially change what comes next #is for lwj to feel like he's in a societally-recognized position to be able to back wwx up #instead of just watching from the sidelines feeling dismayed #and maybe some of the weight of the highly respectable lan clan can be thrown around #to support the powerful-but-vulnerable wwx and the new-and-insecure jc and jiang clan #against the very rude (and regrettably powerful) jgs #that’s my concept here #and in canon lwj spends this whole period going ‘what the heck is wwx’s problem’#alongside the obvious ‘oh no he’s going to get hurt’#and he still ends up trying to help him at nightless city and fighting god and the elders lmao #so now in this scenario he ~knows~ wwx’s problem #and gets frightened by wwx’s condition and his almost-death #he’s shoved off that precipitous love-wei-ying cliff even faster lmao #this a/n is just me trying to justify my sappy plot decisions okay #look at all these tags okay end TED talk #my fic #wwx #lwj #lxc

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